Loss
by LunaMarr
Summary: How Reaver felt the day Sparrow died. Not SparrowXReaver


I do not own Fable. And yes I know the grammar isn't perfect, but I tried. ^^

~O~

Squirming. That was the only way Reaver could explain the feeling he felt now, coursing through his body against his will. He could feel it, a molten serpent wrapping itself around his essence, and ripping it from his body, draining him of skill. It was the one thing Reaver, and the man who existed previously had in common besides looks, the one thing they could no longer live without. Through his skill he had numbed the loss of Oakvale…of her. And now, he could feel the shadow's tentacles clutching his heart. He wrenched, emitting a spiteful cry of pain as he glared at the man before him. Old, decrypted and thoroughly insane Lucien held them by the throats. He squirmed wildly, and through his blurring vision spied Garth and Hammer. Garth was writhing desperately, his will lines glowing fiercely, and Hammer…she was limp as a child's rag doll, her eyes closed. Reaver squeezed his eyes shut and struggled violently, tears of pain leaking from under his eyelids. The wretched old man laughed, and suddenly ceased. There was a hiccup in the will that formed around the trio, and two of the three managed to perceive the glowing image approaching the schizophrenic man. His hair was a pure white, not from age but from the purity of his being. A golden light seemed to shine about him, and two perfect clear pools of blue peered out kindly from an equally perfect face. Sparrow, the only man who had ever been able to compete with Reaver in beauty had come to rescue them. The man taunted him, and Sparrow, a sad smile on his lips, produced a small silver box. The music was suddenly everywhere, soft and beautiful but cold as steel. It reverberated off the cold walls of the spire, drowning out the beat of the spire's chilling heart. Light erupted from the small box, blinding Reaver's sight. Then as if he were a marionette with its strings cut he felt himself drop, and caught himself on his feet. Weakly, he felt his eyes wander blearily, Garth laid unconscious on the ground, his energy spent; Hammer had recovered quicker, and was raised onto one knee panting slightly.

Talking. The old man was blabbing again. Sparrow stared gun raised, entranced by the madman's words.

"I asked the world for nothing but a family, and even that trivial request was too excessive. Such a cold world…does not deserve its own existence." Reaver felt a pang of…regret? He could not put the feeling into words he felt his hand go to his beloved dragonstomper, a growl already on his lips, but he saw Sparrows fingers flex around the trigger, and froze.

"I think it does."

The shot rang out, echoing against the walls along with Lucien's cry of protest. His hand went to clutch a bloody pool appearing in his silken garments and his eyes widened with shock and fear. He stumbled back, tripping over the ledge of the stone footpath. His foot overstepped and he screamed, plummeting over the side into the deep abyss of the Spire.

"I thought he'd never shut up." Reaver chuckled, his full strength returning with the death of the madman.

"You're telling me…" Reaver heard Sparrow whisper. He suppressed a snicker as Hammer brought them back to reality.

"Lucien's...dead. So Whah' happens now?"

"Now…A wish will be made."

~O~

Reaver pulled himself from his memories, to stare at the coffin before him. Rain piddled against the polished granite, sleeking the surface into a mirror. It had been a long time Reaver had felt a true sadness, and looking at the coffin of his…friend he sighed with a heavy heart. Though he had betrayed him, albeit twice, Sparrow had always been a loyal friend to Reaver. As the years had passed Reaver had grown fond of Sparrow, eventually considering him to be his own, true friend. He still would act the part of a snobby, egotistical pirate king, but he would often visit his friend the King and his wife. Yet never did he make a move on her, for Sparrow was one person who he would not betray in that way. The Queen long dead now, was placed deep into the crypt the coffin was being carried into. Sparrow's son, Prince Logan followed suite along with a butler and the kings second in command, Sir Walter. Reaver scanned the crowd for Princess Anna, his favorite of the two children. She was far behind, nobleman and peasants already squeezing into the door leading to the royal catacombs, while she stood still until the last of them had gone through the doors. Reaver saw a flash of her father when she turned her large round eyes on him, pale blue orbs like Sparrows watching him sadly. Once, Reaver had shared those eyes, the pale, but somehow electric blue that all those with hero blood seemed to share. But over the decades they had darkened, into an ocean green, and then into two black orbs, only a light highlight of swirling brown showing the difference from the pupil and the lens. He walked to her gracefully as always, and kneeling on one leg lowered himself to her height.

"Why are you out here Little Princess?" Reaver had never been fond of children, and when Sparrow's son was born it was unsurprising that he had been unimpressed. In Reaver's eyes Logan was no different from any other child, with muddy brown eyes and lacking in his father's good looks. But Anna, she was special. A gem. She was clever and smart, with a knack for witty remarks. There were few times indeed that Reaver could honestly say he was unentertained while in her presence. She had a knack for mischief and a talent with a gun. As a child she had once surprised him by shooting his hat clean off his head with a simple pop-gun.

"I don't want to say goodbye with everyone else there." She replied, her eyes downcast. Perfectly understandable, he was her father, not theirs she deserved to be able to have a private farewell. Reaver exhaled with a sigh and offered her a small smile.

"I think I can convince them to leave the doors open a little while after everyone has gone home." He surmised. She brightened significantly at that, and smiled up at him her eyes beaming.

"Besides, I was never one for public farewells myself; I think I would like to have a private parting as well." He stated truthfully. "Come, we will wait on one of the benches so we may say goodbye to your Father ourselves." Reaver said quietly. She grabbed his hand, and he led her to a bench, sitting her on his knee. He began to hum an old, familiar tune, and Anna joined in immediately, humming to the sound of old bells and music boxes.

King Sparrow watched from afar as Reaver bounced Anna on his knee, smiling at his old friend.

"He will take good care of her little Sparrow. Don't worry."

"I know Theresa," The king replied, "I know."

~O~


End file.
